Jude's Story

In the summer of 2010, when our oldest son was just 9 months old, we learned we were expecting another child. I was elated. I’d always wanted a large family with siblings close in age. We started making plans to have two babies less than 18 months apart. Like many parents, we looked forward to our 20-week anatomy ultrasound to find out whether we’d add another son or our first daughter. We left that appointment knowing we were expecting our second son. But I’ll never forget the horror of learning he might not survive. The technician had detected some kind of heart anomaly, but we wouldn’t know what kind until we met with a pediatric cardiologist.

Several weeks later we had our first appointment with Pediatric Cardiology at Akron Children’s Hospital. We learned that our son had a severe congenital heart defect called Tetralogy of Fallot. The good news was that most cases of TOF are fully reparable, and kids can lead typical lives. Shawn White, the world-famous American snowboarder, was born with TOF, fought through surgery, and achieved extraordinary athletic accomplishments. We left the appointment terrified but hopeful.

That all changed in December 2010 when a different cardiologist at Akron Children’s called and asked us to come back for further testing. We thought that was a little odd, but all this was new to us, so we didn’t expect what came next. The second doctor, Dr. Patel delivered the life-changing news: our son had a very rare subset of TOF, Tetralogy of Fallot with Absent Pulmonary Valve Syndrome. We went from a 90-95% chance of him living a relatively typical life to a 5% chance of survival.

At some point in this process, we decided to name our second son Jude. St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes and desperate situations. Jude’s situation couldn’t have been more desperate. While his prognosis was poor, there was a sliver of hope. A small percentage of babies do survive. We knew that if Jude had any chance of survival, we’d need the best possible doctors at his disposal.

At this point, we made arrangements to deliver Jude at the University of Michigan Women’s Center so he could have immediate access to Mott Children’s Hospital. At the time, Mott had one of the top five pediatric cardiology teams in the country. Curt and I made several trips to Ann Arbor in January and February 2011 to prepare for Jude’s birth. We met with world-renowned heart surgeon, Ed Bove, who would operate on Jude if necessary. But we would not know exactly what Jude would need until he was born.

After a relatively quick labor, I delivered Jude in the surgical suite at the hospital where he was whisked away for immediate treatment. I heard just one cry and didn’t get to see him until four hours later. By that point, the team was preparing to put Jude on ECMO, heart/lung bypass, to buy enough time to confirm the worst: Jude’s lungs had been too damaged from his malformed heart to support life. We prepared to say goodbye.

Jude Jeffery Bissell was born on March 15, 2011 and died in my arms a mere 25 hours and 12 minutes later on March 16, 2011. When he died, he left a gaping hole in our hearts.

Shortly after Jude died, we began talking about ways to remember Jude. Many families who have lost children start organizations or events in honor of their babies. Until almost two years later, we didn’t feel an overwhelming urge to do so. Or perhaps we just weren’t sure what we should do. We didn’t just want to pick something. If we were going to do it, the event we chose had resonate with Jude’s short life.

Curt and I were talking one night while college basketball played on the TV behind us. I looked up, and suddenly it hit me: a March Madness pool!

How does this relate to Jude? Curt, Caleb (our first son), my mom, and I rushed up to Michigan ten days before Jude was born because I believed I was having contractions. Since it was crucial that Jude be born in Michigan, where the best cardiac care was available, our doctor advised us to go immediately. Once we arrived in Michigan, the pains stopped. Since we were already in Ann Arbor, we decided to stay put. We rented a hotel suite and sat down to wait. That week was Championship Week. Jude and I spent many of our last hours together, he nestled safely inside of me, watching college basketball. The NCAA Tournament started March 17 that year, the day after we arrived home. Without Jude. I don’t remember anything about that tournament. I don’t know that I even watched much of it, even though March Madness is one of my favorite times of the year.

Two years later, I was excited about the tournament again. It’s impossible for me to think about college basketball, much less the Tournament, without thinking of Jude. They are forever linked in my mind. What better way to remember our precious little boy than by watching basketball and raising little money at the same time?

That’s how Buckets of Hope for Tender Hearts was born. We are now hosting our 10th Annual Tournament and have raised over $35,000 to support other families who have lost a child. March is still hard. It probably always will be. But BOH has given our family a way to remember Jude with joy and share that joy with others.

If you’re reading our story, thank you. Thank you for taking the time to read and remember Jude. If you’re reading because you’ve experienced your own loss, there are no words. But there is solidarity and community to be found. Please let us know how we can help. If you’re reading because you’d like to support our organization, there are many ways to help. If participating in the tournament isn’t for you, please reach out for other opportunities. 

As of February 2023, we now have two new grant opportunities available for parents grieving the loss of a child. Details and applications can be found here on the website.